


Stay or Leave

by tjnstlouismo



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mention of sex, mention of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjnstlouismo/pseuds/tjnstlouismo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prologue to Simple Things. The first year. </p>
<p>Everything belongs to Hamlet Machine</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay or Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Influenced by Stay or Leave by Dave Matthews.

Ethan barely noticed the telecom flickering in the corner. He had turned it on to fill up the silence of the room with some noise, anything to distract him from how empty their apartment was without him. The remains of leftover chicken fried rice sat cold and congealed in the cardboard container. He couldn't remember when he had brought it home; maybe it had been last week and maybe he shouldn't be eating it. Listlessly he turned towards the sliding glass door that led out to the deck and wondered if he should go out and clean up the cigarette butts scattered carelessly about. At some point everything that was left of him would be gone from the apartment. Then later, after Ethan got tired of staying in the cheap apartment that they took because it’s what he could afford and he wasn't willing to let Ethan help. Once he moved on, there would be nothing left at all, not the smoky boozy dangerous smell of him, not the strands of black on black hair clogging up the shower drain, not the remains of his black beard still in the sink the last time he shaved, not his fighter uniforms thrown into the back of the front closet. Ethan was tired of crying, all the tears had leaked out of him and now numbness had set in.

Ethan thought back to high school. He had been a shy boy, well liked; he had friends but shy about his sexuality. At first he was not sure but then one day he caught out of the corner of his eye, a slight figure sitting silently in the library, crowned with white blond hair like the stuff of fairy tales. Spun gold, flowing down to the narrow shoulders, sharp angle of his jaw; perfect shell like ears and when Ethan passed by the boy, he shot him a brilliant smile full of promise and Ethan's underwear suddenly constricted as if there wasn’t enough room any more. When the fullness stubbornly would not go away he had snuck into the library restroom, took his hardened penis out and guiltily stroked it, thinking of the brilliant smile that instantly seduced him. He thought about what was under the school uniform and wondered if his classmates' penis had filled as well. When he imagined that mouth smiling around his cock, he came hard into his hand the spasms nearly knocking him back into the toilet. From that time forward he never looked at girls that way again, and kept searching out a knowing look, a cunning glance, hopeful that some day someone would rescue him from the prison of insecurity and doubt he was drowning in. Then inexplicitly he had been set free, suddenly naked in his desire by a person who would not accept the limitations he placed on himself. The person who selfishly left his cigarette butts laying around for someone else to pick up.

The apartment seemed to be getting colder but when he checked the thermostat it read 72 where he had left it. But the air was chilly missing the mass of him, taking up his space and most of Ethan's, just like he had hogged the skinny mattress's they had nested in on the floor of the Sleipnir. It didn't matter now that he had all the blankets; their bed was silent in its loneliness. It didn't matter if there was room in the closet for his things, or a place to keep his wine chilled in the refrigerator. He had all the room in the world now and Ethan was inconsolable that he had slipped through his fingers. Ethan promised himself if he ever saw him again, if he ever got to wrap his frozen finger into the heat of him again that he would hang on for dear life and never ever let him loose again.

It had been long enough this time that there was dust across the end table that they found in the alley that he repaired, sanded down and stained to bring out the pecan wood it was made out of. For a moment Ethan panicked and stood up, cleared the lamp and the picture of James and Keeler on their honeymoon from it. James all smooth chocolate and bright white teeth laughing at Keeler who was bright red from lying on the beach too long. He picked the table up, frantic, but it was there, the circle of red, the wine that got spilled one amorous night. When Ethan couldn't get it out of the cheap carpet, he had stuck the table over it and said, "There. Fucking gone, now get that mouth back over here, princess." Now all there was circle of red that looked like he had opened his wrists and his blood had poured out. But he hadn't and he probably would not. He was almost sure he would not.

He had come back once to get some clothes that he left behind when he slammed his way out of the apartment. He refused to come in but stood in the doorway and ran his thumb across Ethan's trembling lips. "You ok, baby?" he had asked.

"No." Ethan had answered as he handed him the duffel. His eyes had been wistful and full of regret but he walked away all the same. Ethan closed the door and threw up his dinner across the entryway floor.

He got through the first night, sleeping upright in the recliner chair his mother had snuck out of the guest room without his father knowing. He slept there the second night too. After a week of aching muscles and exhaustion he opened the door to their bedroom, the sheets dry now from the blood that had sprayed from his mouth when Ethan slapped him. He curled up with the bloody sheet over his face and woke with the blood wet again from his tears and smeared all over his face. He threw the sheets down the garbage shoot, went out and bought new ones with the money he was setting aside for an anniversary present.

His mother called but Ethan never answered. She brought over a basket of food that he left until she came back and had to throw it away. She had beaten on the door then, near hysteria, threatening to call the police if he didn't open the door. He relented, opened it a crack and told her to go away. "Ethan, honey, don't do this to yourself..." "Cause he's not worth it? Ethan finished his mother's sentence.

She had looked up at him shocked then angry as he closed the door in her face. She took to texting him, but he never responded, not even when he wanted to crawl into her arms so she could rock him to sleep. He was so tired, his heart hurt so much. The knife in his gut wouldn't allow him to eat and the burning in his chest wouldn't let him sleep. If he did sleep he dreamed of being chased by a big black dog, snapping at his heels as he ran. He would wake up panting, afraid, panicked, and then he remembered he was alone.

Keeler sent him home early one day after confronting him. He offered to have James bring him home; drag him home if he had to. When Ethan declined, Keeler said "Then you go home until you don't look like the walking dead. That's an order, hon; seriously we're really worried about you." Ethan shook his head, picked up his jacket and turned his workstation off. "Take all the time you need, Eth, you know you can call or text or just come over anytime, we'll come get you, whatever you need.” Keeler drew him into his arms, ever the mother hen, patting his back. Ethan thought he would combust from the heat in his heart; every pat was like a knife blade. "I don't know what in hell is wrong with that idiot, but hon, it's not your fault." Keeler crooned as he comforted him. Ethan had to get away from him before he set them both on fire. He backed away, moving towards the office door.

"He'll come back, hon, he always does." Keeler frowned at him. "Don't lose hope."

"Not this time. And I already have." Ethan walked out of the office, took the stairs then bolted out the door into the cold night air. The sky was clear and the stars watched him. He knew those stars; they had danced together in them and under them. When he got home, he didn't turn any of the lights on but took all his clothes off, grabbed the soft throw that had been a Christmas gift from his parents, and wrapped it around him. He opened the curtains wide and pulled the couch to the window where he could see outside taking solace in the butts on the deck, and the paint brushes still lying dry and discarded where they had been left last summer. If he closed his eyes he could see his lanky body leaning over the rail catcalling to girls walking down the street as he smoked. Then he would turn and watch him through the glass, making lewd faces and gestures until Ethan had to go out there and feign embarrassed dismay and nag at him to stop. Once Ethan found himself spun around and bent over the railing, hands deftly unzipped and pulled his pants down in one smooth motion. The long hard thickness had pushed into him with little warning, carefully slicked as to not hurt him, but then pounded into Ethan relentlessly while he waved at passersby's. Ethan had never been so embarrassed in his life and he had never come as hard as he did, spurting between the railing, cum raining down on the sidewalk below. They had scurried into the apartment to hide when an elderly man stopped below them then passed his hand over his balding head and looked up at them. Tripping and fumbling to get ahead of each other they tumbled like little boys into the living room and hid there giggling until they both couldn't any more. They spent the afternoon lying next to each other holding hands, weaving fingers, talking about the future they would walk into; together.

Together. Ethan was crying now, there was no stopping the tears no matter how his nose hurt, how his throat hurt, how his chest hurt. The pain started in his groin, feeding up his cock into his belly up to his chest and then exploded out his mouth as he wailed stuffing the throw into it so that no one would hear him. He wailed until he couldn’t catch his breath, panting so fast it sounded as if he were drowning. In a way he wanted to so, he wanted it to be easier, he just wanted to be done.

Sometime in the night he woke up enough to know he needed to piss, and he stumbled naked to the toilet, leaned against the wall and flooded the toilet not caring as he splashed on the floor then down his legs. Now his feet were wet and the rug was soaked, so he bunched it up, walked out to the hall, the outline of his feet across the carpet. Naked, he opened the garbage shoot and shoved the dripping rug down into it then walked back to the apartment. The place was a wreck, the trash overflowing and the dishes unwashed. He was unwashed. He wanted to be clean, clean of this unbearable sadness, clean of their future, clean of him.

He reached into the shower to let the warm water run so that it wasn't such a shock when he got in, then let himself into the falling water. When he closed his eyes, he didn't pretend that he was outside making breakfast. He didn't pretend he could smell coffee made too strong or bacon cooking. He didn't pretend his ass was tender from their love making, and his cock was raw from having his orgasms pulled out of him. He didn't call out saying he would be right out. When he washed his hair and cleaned his body, he just got out and turned the water off.

He hadn't noticed the message on his phone until he had dressed and was standing in the kitchen eating a banana that was just a little too soft. He almost didn't listen to it but he did. Then he put his phone down, finished his banana and threw it in the trash.

He cleaned out the refrigerator of its questionable contents and took out the trash. Then he scrubbed the kitchen clean. He picked up all his dirty clothes, put them in the washer, then the dryer and pulled the towels from the bathroom floor and did the same. He moved the couch back, dusted the tables, cleaned the glass doors and vacuumed the floor. He made the bed with the new sheets and put the throw back where it belonged. Letting himself out onto the deck he picked up the cigarette butts throwing them into a grocery bag and took it to the shoot as well. He made coffee when he got back inside and took some frozen chili out of the freezer. He was setting the table when the front door clicked open and he stepped into the little entry way. Ethan crossed the distance in two steps then stood still in front of him. He stood with his fingers reaching towards him, seeking out his fire to warm them.

　


End file.
